The House of Dies Drear Read Online Free Page B

bleeding,” he said softly. “It looks just like somebody cut the house open underneath and let its blood run out! That’s a nice hill though,” he added. He looked at the clumps of skinny trees at each side of the house. Their branches were bare and twisted by wind.
    Thomas cleared his throat. “I bet you can see a lot from the top of that hill.” He felt he ought to say this. The hill was hardly anything compared to the mountains at home. Otherwise the land in every direction was mostly flat.
    “You can see the college from the top of the hill,” Mr. Small said. “And you can see the town. It’s quite a view. On a clear day those springs and colored rock make the hill and house look like a fairyland.”
    “All those springs!” Thomas said. He shook his head. “Where do they come from? I’ve never seen anything like them.”
    “You’ll get used to the look of the land,” Mr. Small said. “This is limestone country, and always with limestone in this formation you’ll find the water table percolating through rock into springs. There are caves, lakes and marshes all around us, all because of the rock formations and the way they fault.”
    Mrs. Small kept her eye on the house. It was her nature to concentrate on that which there was a chance of her changing.
    “No, it’s not,” she said softly. “Oh, dear, no, it will never be pretty!”
    “Everything is seeping with rain,” Mr. Small said to her. “Just try to imagine those rocks, that stream and the springs on a bright, sunny day. Then it’s really something to see.”
    Thomas could imagine how everything looked on a day such as his father described. His eyes shone as he said, “It must look just about perfect!”
    They drove nearer. Thomas could see that the house lay far back from the highway. There was a gravel road branching from the highway and leading to the house. A weathered covered bridge crossed the stream at the base of the hill. Mr. Small turned off the highway and stopped the car.
    “There’s been quite a rain,” he said, “I’d better check the bridge.”
    Now Thomas sat with his hands folded tightly beneath his chin, with his elbows on his knees. He had a moment to look at the house of Dies Drear, the hill and the stream all at once. He stared long and hard. By the time his father returned, he had everything figured out.
    They continued up the winding road, the house with its opaque, watching windows drawing ever nearer.
    The stream is the moat. The covered planks over it are the drawbridge, Thomas thought. And the house of Dies Drear is the castle.
    But who is the king of all this? Who will win the war?
    There was a war and there was a king. Thomas was as sure of this as he was certain the house was haunted, for the hill and house were bitten and frozen. They were separated from the rest of the land by something unkind.
    “Oh dear,” Mrs. Small was saying. “Oh dear. Dear!”
    Suddenly the twins were scrambling over Thomas, wide awake and watching the house get closer. By some unspoken agreement, they set up a loud, pathetic wail at the same time.
    “Look!” Thomas whispered to them. “See, over there is clear sky. All this mist will rise and get blown away soon. Then you’ll feel better.”
    Sure enough, above the dark trees at the top of the hill was deep, clear sky. Thomas gently cradled the boys. “There are new kinds of trees here,” he told them. “There will be nights with stars above trees like you’ve never known!” The twins hushed, as Thomas knew they would.
    Up close the house seemed to Thomas even more huge, if that were possible. There were three floors. Above the top floor was a mansard roof with dormer windows jutting from its steep lower slopes. Eaves overhanging the second story dripped moisture to the ground in splattering beats. There was a veranda surrounding the ground floor, with pillars that rose to the eaves.
    Thomas liked the house. But the chill he had felt on seeing it from the highway was